Stay the Night
by with-beauty
Summary: I got the inspiration to write this story when I was listening to "Stay the Night" by Zedd ft. Hayley Williams. It reminded me of Percy and Calypso's relationship. This is set from Calypso's POV when Percy lands in Ogygia. Disclaimer: I am not an expert on healing burns. Most of my information is from
1. Chapter 1

Calypso was in her garden when the saw it: the shooting star.

But it was all wrong. It was the middle of the day, and the star looked too large, too close.

And it was coming straight for her beach.

In an instant she knew. It wasn't a shooting star; it was a demigod. And he was _burning._

She barely had time to register the fact before he crashed into the lake, sending a huge column of water straight into the air. The waves from his impact sloshed at the shore as she stood for a moment in shock.

She knew there was no way the demigod could have survived, yet she felt her body springing into action, taking her into the water after him. She dived under the slowly calming surface of the lake, but all she could see were bubbles. They were almost like a wall, shielding her from the boy as she swam towards him. As much as she pushed and struggled, she could not part them. Coming up for air, she found that the bubbles extended in a perfect ring around where he had landed. Thinking quickly, she arched her body and slithered over them, sliding smoothly into the water on the other side.

She dived again, certain that the young hero would be nearly drowned by now. But the sight that met her brought her up short. Before her the boy floated, impossibly still, as if suspended, fifteen feet beneath the water's surface. The water swirled gently around the burns covering his body, fluttering the tatters of his clothes.

Recovering herself, Calypso swam quickly to the boy's unconscious body. Afraid to touch his ravaged skin, she grasped the shreds of his shirt and began to pull him to the surface. He came easily, like the cushion that had held him so still in the water still surrounded him.

When they reached the air once more, Calypso gently floated the demigod on his back. With relief she noted that the ring of bubbles had disappeared. She wouldn't have to figure out how to push the boy over the barrier, at least. The only problem was finding a way to tow him to shore without actually touching his skin.

Amazingly, the only part of his body that had only sustained minor burns was his head. His face was an angry red color, like bad sunburn, and his hair was singed, but other than that he was fine. The rest of his body, though, was another story. Most of his shirt and a good part of his shorts had burned away, revealing third-degree burns across his chest, arms, and legs. Trembling, Calypso tipped his head towards her and brought her ear close to his mouth, listening for his breath. When she heard the tiny whoosh of air, she let herself splash back into the water, relieved.

After taking another mental survey of his damage, she decided it would be best to use his head to drag him to shore, since it was the only part of his body that didn't look like it would peel away in her hands. Softly gripping the back of his head, she started to make her way back towards the beach. As she reached the shallows, she paused, calling out to her invisible servants for help. A canvas stretcher came zipping out of her cave, and the boy was lifted with unseen hands onto it.

Calypso led the stretcher into her cool, dark home.

"Put him here, please," she instructed, gesturing to her bed. Again the invisible hands lifted him, placing him lightly on top of the sheets.

"Thank you," she said. "Now I need you to get me anything you can think of for burns. Lavender oil, wolf's bane, witch hazel, honey, all of it. Bandages too. And as much aloe and nectar as we have."

As they busied themselves gathering the materials from around the room and in the garden, she dragged a chair up beside the bed to study the demigod's burns more closely. She ripped apart the remnants of his shirt and shorts until he was left in his underwear, which was, surprisingly, mostly intact. With the clothes gone, she could get a better look at his wounds. His chest and shoulders seemed to have sustained the worst burns; they were almost totally red and blistered, with patches of blackened, tough skin. Calypso could see the path the flames took as they were spread over his body by the force of his flight to her bay. Lines of blistered skin licked their way down his arms and over his stomach to his legs. Though she was afraid to flip him over without help, she could guess that his back looked the same. The heat of the fire had melted and warped his sneakers; she had to cut them off with her knife. Luckily, they hadn't stuck to his feet, which were slightly less blistered than the rest of his body.

Pots of oils and bundles of dried flowers floated toward her, carried by her invisible servants. They laid them on the bedside table, ready for Calypso to mix and grind them together. First, though, she picked up the bunch of aloe leaves, deftly slicing one open. She squeezed the liquid onto her fingers and smoothed it onto the boy's damaged skin as gently as she could. She covered the burns and blisters on the front of his body as well as she could before asking her servants to flip him over and repeating the process on his back.

When she finished, she turned to the spread of ingredients on her bedside table. She stripped the dried petals off the sprigs of wolf's bane and witch hazel and ground them into a fine powder with her pestle, slowly adding the lavender oil and honey until it formed a thick paste. This too she spread over his scorched skin. Her servants helped her cut long, thick gauze bandages to secure over the burns, to protect from the open air and infection.

As Calypso worked, she concentrated her magic into a simple healing song. The demigod's face relaxed into a peaceful expression, which surprised her, because she hadn't even noticed how strained it was before.

She knew the reason why she hadn't allowed herself to really look at the demigod's face, though she didn't want to admit it, even to herself. She knew that if she looked too long, she would surely fall in love. It was her curse.

As she applied aloe to his now serene face, she couldn't help but notice how handsome he was. Even with his angry red skin and singed hair, he was attractive. Calypso felt a tiny jolt in her stomach and knew that she was done for. The Fates had sent her another brave, beautiful boy, and there was no way to avoid falling for him. She sighed as she brushed his black hair off his forehead.

"Could I have the nectar please?"

A bronze bowl and spoon floated over to her outstretched hand. Carefully, she took a spoonful of the liquid and held it to her brave one's mouth. She dribbled a couple drops onto his lips and watched closely until his tongue poked out to lick them up. For the next half hour, the process was repeated, until the whole bowl of nectar was gone. By then, Calypso felt exhausted. She slumped in her chair, her eyelids flickering shut.

A few moments later, she felt a light tap on her shoulder. She forced her eyes open to see a cot placed at the foot of the bed. Gratefully, she pushed herself out of the chair and stumbled over, collapsing on the thin mattress. The sheets on the cot rose to cover her, then those on the bed to cover the demigod.

"Thank you," Calypso whispered to the empty air. She knew her invisible servants would hear.


	2. Chapter 2

Calypso was startled awake in the middle of the night by the sound of talking. As she jerked upright, she realized that the boy was speaking.

"Annabeth," he muttered. "It's me … Percy."

At first Calypso thought that he had woken up. She was about to speak, to soothe him, when she saw that his eyes were still shut tight. He was only sleep-talking.

She waited for what seemed an eternity for him to say something else, but he had fallen silent. With a sigh, she fell back onto the cot. At least she knew his name now, she supposed. Percy. She fell back asleep repeating it over and over in her head.

When she woke again, it was morning. A pot of porridge was already bubbling in the fireplace and fresh herbs and flowers were waiting on the bedside table for her to make her healing salve, as well as another bowl of nectar. Calypso smiled at her servants' thoughtfulness. Stretching, she walked back around to the side of the bed and gently pulled the sheets down. After a deep breath to brace herself, she peeled aside the longest bandage on the demigod's – Percy's – chest.

The burned skin looked even worse than she had imagined. The blisters had grown and filled with fluid, and the skin around them had turned redder than the day before. Calypso gasped to imagine what his back must look like where he had laid on the burns all night. With a pang, she saw that the pained expression had returned to his face.

Fighting back tears, Calypso smoothed his singed hair off of his forehead.

"Be brave, young hero," she whispered, "and I will help you heal."

As she turned to her bedside table to begin mixing the salve, she started to sing her healing song. She poured as much of her magic into it as she could, imagining the notes drifting over the demigod's body and sinking into his skin, speeding his natural healing process. She continued singing as she covered the burns in her balm, not stopping until the last bandage had been replaced.

The best course of action, she decided, was to alternate which side Percy was laying on until his burns started to heal. Several of the blisters on his back had already broken, and she wanted to make sure that they got enough fresh air so that they wouldn't fester. It was a good idea to move him often so that he wouldn't get bedsores, anyways. There was no way of knowing when he would wake up or how long it would take him to heal. She settled on a pattern where she would clean and redress his wounds and flip him over at every meal and once at night.

Now that she had a schedule to follow, Calypso felt much better. Even though she was constantly hyperaware of Percy and was afraid to leave him alone for too long, she felt strangely at peace. Having a purpose gave her a sense of self that she hadn't felt since … well, a very long time ago. Lifetimes, really. But it was better not to think about the past.

Caught up in her routine of caring for her young hero, Calypso barely paid attention to the passing of time except to monitor how his burns were healing. With the combination of the aloe, soothing paste, healing songs, and constant nectar intake, he was getting better remarkably fast. The blisters began to rupture one by one, the dead skin sloughing off with the bandages. Calypso carefully picked the peeling skin off his face, unable to stop herself from lingering as she did so, brushing her fingers across his cheekbones and temples.

It was days, she didn't know how many, before Percy spoke again. She had just come back into her cave room from collecting more aloe leaves from her garden when she heard him.

"Grover? Tyson? Where did you go?" he muttered, turning his head from side to side. "You're lost, Grover, you …" The rest of his sentence trailed of into mumbled syllables that lost any meaning. Calypso knelt by his side and swept his hair out of his eyes.

"Hush, brave one, hush," she murmured. "You must concentrate on yourself now, on healing yourself. There's no need to fret." She sang to him softly, until his features relaxed again into peaceful sleep.

Although Percy was now calm, Calypso emotions were in turmoil. She worried about her brave hero, about how selfless he seemed, even in sleep. Would his worry about his friends, Grover and Tyson and the girl – Annabell? – disrupt his healing? She could only hope that her remedies would outbalance any negative effects his concern would cause.

Much of Percy's skin was already well on its way to being healed. Even the largest of the blisters were gone; most of his body was covered in shiny, pink, new skin. As Calypso removed his bandages, she decided that he was improved enough to have a bath. Calling for her servants to put him on the stretcher, she lead the way behind one of the white curtains she had hung around the cave as dividers to her little wooden tub. The invisible hands carrying the stretcher placed it on the ground, while more filled the tub with buckets of lukewarm water. Before they could help Calypso lift Percy into the tub, though, she hesitated. Should she take off his underwear to do this? Blushing furiously and praying he wouldn't be offended, she tugged the fabric off his hips and down his legs as quickly as she could without hurting his tender skin. She couldn't look back at him until her servants had settled him gently in the tub. She thanked the gods that she couldn't see the beings that helped her and what expressions that they might have; she already felt ridiculous enough.

Taking up her sponge, she supported the back of the young hero's head so that he wouldn't loll around the tub while she tried to bathe him. She tried to be as gentle as possible as she washed his skin, dabbing as his neck and face where there was less damage. She avoided touching his chest and arms, though, as well as his legs, simply wringing out the sponge and letting the water run over them.

Bathing his back proved to be much harder than his front. Calypso was still afraid of touching the healing skin across his chest, but couldn't think of a better way to support him in the tub. She couldn't figure out a way to keep his head upright, either. Finally, she managed to lean over the lip of the tub and very uncomfortably let Percy fall forward against her contorted chest.

When he flopped against her, he let out a huff of breath.

"Huh, Annabeth," he muttered. Calypso hushed him quietly and stroked the back of his head for a moment before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

Only by craning her neck over his shoulder could she see what she was doing. She squeezed the water across his back as quickly as she could before heaving him back against the side of the tub, trying to still be careful of his head.

As she sat back on her heels, Calypso vowed that she would never try to do this again. It definitely wasn't worth the embarrassment or the effort. She called to her servants, who brought with them a towel and new underwear, as well as a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants. Flushing again, she dried and dressed her brave hero, then let the servants take him back to the bed.


	3. Chapter 3

In the days that followed, Percy began to get more and more restless. He tossed and turned by himself, more than once scaring Calypso half to death when he rolled too close to the edge of the bed. She had to push him back to the middle of the mattress and tuck the sheets firmly around him, trying to keep him in place. She was tempted to sleep up in the bed with him, if only to make sure that he didn't hurt himself, but knew how terrible of an idea that was. No, it was better to stay at the foot of the bed on her little cot and listen to his mumbled dream conversations.

He had begun talking with more frequency, muttering the names of his friends. Calypso felt so helpless to soothe his mind. All she could do was whisper flimsy phrases of comfort and sing her healing songs. His talking kept her awake late into the night, and she was sure it continued after she finally fell asleep. Even though he spoke during the day, it happened less often than at night, which was a relief. She felt almost as anxious as she was certain he was.

To Calypso's dismay, he said the girl's name – Annabeth, she knew now – more often than the names of his other friends. As he slept, he argued with her, searched for her, called out for her like she was in danger. Calypso could tell that he cared for her very much, and the jealousy that accompanied that knowledge scared her.

As the demigod continued to emerge farther from his healing sleep, Calypso felt herself grow increasingly uneasy. She knew that if she wanted to avoid being hurt by him, she would need to keep her distance, yet she could feel herself being pulled ever closer. She could barely keep away from him now, what would it be like when he finally regained consciousness? It would be hard, so very hard. She knew.

Just days after the bathing episode, Calypso woke with a sense of urgency. Looking over at the boy lying on the bed she could tell that something was different. His breathing was shallower and his eyes moved constantly beneath their lids. He would wake today, she was sure.

Instantly she sprang into action, ordering her servants to move the cot outside for Percy to lie on. She wanted his first view to be of Ogygia's picturesque shores and sky. It never rained here, so she knew that it would be beautiful for him when he opened his eyes.

As the servants lifted her hero to carry him outside, she carefully covered his body with a sheet. His face and neck were healed, but it was still dangerous to expose the rest of his body to direct sunlight. They put him on the cot by the corner of her garden, where she loved to sit because of all the sounds she could hear. The splashing of her garden fountains, birdsong from the cedar grove that grew by her cave, waves gently lapping against the shore. It all came together like music in her ears. She felt more soothed in this single spot than anywhere else in her little cursed paradise. It would be perfect for Percy's first experience of the phantom island.

For hours Calypso sat with the boy, occasionally spooning nectar into his mouth and dabbing the sweat from the warm sun off his forehead with a cool cloth. He became more and more agitated, jerking in his restless sleep and mumbling constantly, though Calypso could never make anything out. She fretted over him, singing to try to still him, but it had no effect.

Suddenly, he woke with a gasp. His eyes flew open wide, staring senselessly up at the bright blue sky. Her hands fluttered over his body, scared to actually touch him. He seemed to be trying to rise.

"Stay still," Calypso told him. She didn't want him to hurt himself. "You're too weak to rise."

Quickly, she took up her cloth and laid it across his forehead, where beads of sweat had sprung up from his exertion. Trying not to let her hand shake, she poured a few drops of nectar into his mouth. Then she leaned over him to get a good look at his face.

His sea green eyes immediately focused on her own, which she took as a good sign. Though their gaze was piercing, she could tell that he was confused and scared. A pang of sadness went through her heart, and she began to sing, infusing the melody with her magic. She concentrated on letting it sooth and comfort the turmoil in his mind and help gently put him back to sleep. Perhaps he wasn't ready to wake up after all, as much as she wanted him to be. As his eyelids began to flutter, he looked back up at her, his throat working.

"Who?" he managed, his voice hoarse from disuse.

She smiled as gently as she could. "Shhh, brave one. Rest and heal. No harm will come to you here. I am Calypso."

His eyes finally slipped shut, concealing their beautiful green color. Calypso had never seen anything like them. Granted, she didn't see much in the way of eye color anyways, save her own. But Percy's had no likeness on her little island or in her memory. She couldn't help wishing that they were still open, even though she knew he still had more healing to do.

Once she readjusted the sheets over his body, she let herself relax a little. She sat for a few more minutes with him, listening to his breathing gradually deepen as he drifted back to sleep. Then, with a sigh, she stood.

"Help me bring him back to the room," she instructed the empty air. "If we keep him out too long, we'll damage his skin again."

As the servants carried him back to the cool dark cave, she trailed behind. She couldn't help dwelling on how distressed Percy had been. She had wanted his first experience of Ogygia to be a calming one, not one that upset him. She should have known better. Of course he would be frightened; he would have no idea where he was or why he was there.

Calypso resolved to keep him asleep for at least a few more days. That way, she could fully heal him and help him feel more comfortable. Perhaps she could even infuse her music with soothing thoughts about her home. Of course, he wouldn't remember anything when he woke, but there was a chance that it might help ease his anxiety with his surroundings. When he opened his eyes again, he might simply be curious, rather than afraid. She hoped so, at least.

With a sigh, she followed the stretcher into the dim light of her home.


End file.
